Corporate Punishment
by Sue Pokorny
Summary: Short tag to 4.17, It's a Terrible Life. I firmly believe they left it for us to finish. Thank you, Sera. Continuation from the end of the ep.


_I have to admit, I was happy to laugh again. It's a Terrible Life had so many chuckles, I had to watch it a few times through before I caught them all. Gotta love a man who can look an upper management angel in the eye and deadpan "Angel or not, I'll stab you in the face." Welcome back, Dean! I'm also going to believe that they ended it the way they did just so us FFwriters had a place to start. That was so nice of them. So, here is the way my warped little mind finished the episode._

**Corporate Punishment**

"_So, are you with me? You want to go steam yourself another latte? Or Are you ready to stand up, and be who you really are?"_

Dean let the angel's words seep through his thoughts. Is that all it took? A simple decision to suck it up and suddenly everything was peachy? After everything – forty years in Hell, Alistair, learning about his part in all this -- it was all supposed to just wash away because another dick angel decided to screw with him?

Seriously?

Dean blinked as he felt something inside him shift. Something that felt… right.

Normal.

Maybe…. Maybe it really was that simple.

Slowly he tracked his eyes up to meet the angel's, holding Zachariah's gaze as he allowed who he was to take hold for the first time in a long while. "Where the hell is my car?"

Zachariah's smile widened. He held out a familiar set of keys, his eyes crinkling in mirth. "3rd floor, parking garage. Northeast corner."

Dean grabbed the keys with a quick jerk of his arm, his eyes locked on the angel's until a sound to his right diverted his attention to the door of the office. He was relieved to see Sam open the door and stumble through, a look of bewilderment on his face. He turned back to the angel, not surprised to find himself standing alone behind the desk.

"I hate it when they do that," he mumbled under his breath with a shake of his head.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was a familiar boon to Dean's soul and he felt his chest loosen as another piece of himself slid into place.

He nodded quickly, pulling at his tie and tossing it down on top of the desktop with more force than necessary. He rounded the corner of the desk and paused, his eyes falling on the state of the art laptop sitting on top of the custom leather carrying case. With only a moment's hesitation, he shoved the laptop into the bag, grabbed it with both hands and pushed it into his brother's stomach.

At Sam's wide-eyed look of surprise, he shrugged. "Consider it severance. Come on."

He led the way out the door of Dean Smith's office, striding purposely down the hall to the elevator. He kept his eyes forward, not making contact with anyone, unsure of how to treat these people now that he knew who he didn't really belong. Were they friends? Co-workers? Simply acquaintances he would never lay eyes on again?

God he hoped so.

The ride down to the first floor was silent, Dean keeping his gaze on the rows of lights, trying to ignore Sam's fidgeting and the closeness of the other people who he did not want to have to engage in conversation. Luckily, they made it to their destination without anyone attempting to speak to them, and hurried off the elevator, turning right to the door to the parking garage. Dean headed to the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time as he climbed to the third floor.

"What the hell was that?"

Dean cringed, expecting his brother's question, but not entirely sure how to answer it. "I'll explain later."

"Okay," Sam drawled as they shoved the door open and stepped out onto the cement floor of the parking structure. "Now what?"

Dean slowed as the Impala came into view, the final piece snapping into place. "We get the car then find the first greasy diner outside the city limits."

Apparently Sam was okay with the plan since he didn't utter another word until they were long gone.

Snsnsnsnsnsnsns

"So, what the hell happened?" Sam asked once they were seated in the diner, strong black coffee in front of them. "What exactly was all that?"

Dean shrugged. "To put it simply, Sammy. We were punk'd by an angel."

Sam's eyebrows shot up to disappear beneath his bangs. "Come again?"

Dean cleared his throat and leaned forward, both arms folded across the table. "What's the last thing you remember – I mean the last thing before becoming cubicle boy?"

Sam frowned, forcing himself to think back past the last three weeks. The memory that surfaced made his breath catch in his throat.

"Sam?"

The younger man forced himself to breath. "You. In the hospital," he said softly. "After…"

"Alistair," Dean concluded. "Yeah, me, too."

Sam shook the vision of his beaten brother from his mind. "So, how did we go from Grey's Anatomy to The Office?"

Dean rubbed a hand across his face, his eyes falling to the table. "Apparently, I had a lesson to learn."

Sam shook his head again. He could tell from the haunted expression in his brother's eyes that none of this was going to be simple. "Is that supposed to make sense?"

Dean sighed. "When I was… torturing Alistair… he told me something. Something that… well I guess I didn't take it so well."

Sam nodded. Dean was a mess after Castiel and Uriel's little D&D charade in the warehouse. Sam had gotten him to the hospital, only to wonder if his brother was going to die anyway. He'd even confronted Castiel, ordering him to perform some kind of miracle to save Dean despite the threats the angels had previously leveled against him. Maybe intimidation worked on angels. "What did he tell you?"

"Why Lillith wanted me in Hell to begin with."

Sam leaned forward slightly, not entirely sure he wanted to hear what Dean was so warily trying to tell him. "What?"

Dean took a deep breath, a sad smile playing the corners of his mouth as he leaned back against the booth. "Sammy, this has all been one big cosmic joke from the get go. The damn demons have been planning this all along. They needed me there, they needed me to…"

As his brother's voice trailed off, Sam couldn't help but lean closer. "Dean. They needed you to what?"

Dean swallowed and shifted in his seat, his head titling to the side as his face screwed up in thought. "Have you ever stopped to wonder why the demons have never broken the seals before? I mean, why now? Why didn't they try this years, hell decades or centuries ago?"

Sam pursed his lips and shrugged. "Well, yeah. I just figured they couldn't."

"Exactly." Dean nodded slowly, his eyes falling to his hand that remained on the table top, playing at the handle of his coffee cup. "They couldn't. They couldn't break the 66 seals because they needed someone else to break the first."

Sam was following, not sure of where exactly the Sunday school lesson was leading. "Okay. But what does that have to do with us? With you?"

Dean took another breath and slowly raised his eyes to his brother's. Sam flinched at the depth of emotion in the familiar green. "The first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell. It was me, Sammy. When I accepted Alistair's offer, when I got off the rack… "

Sam sat back, his mouth dropping open and all the air rushed from his body as his brother's words sucker punched him. "You broke the first seal."

Dean nodded, his eyes dropping to his hand again. "Yeah." He gave a soft, self-depricating laugh. "This is all my fault."

"Dean, demons lie."

"No. Cas confirmed it."

Sam sighed, his eyes closing briefly as the reason for his brother's emotional withdrawal in the hospital began to make sense. "Shit."

"Yeah."

Sam searched frantically for something, anything, that would help Dean realize he couldn't shoulder the blame for everything. "Dean, I… you… this isn't your fault."

Dean laughed again. "Yeah. It is." He held up a hand as Sam tried to interrupt. "I get that I didn't have much of a choice. I mean, I tried to hold out… I… I guess I just wasn't strong enough."

"Dean…"

"No, it's okay. It's my fault. I get it. And I have to fix it."

Sam simply nodded, glad to see some of the old Dean shining through. "How?"

Dean grinned and shook his head. "I have no clue. But Cas also told me that the righteous man who begins it, is the one who has to finish it. I guess the whole corporate America thing was…" he shrugged as he leaned forward on the table, his eyes locking onto Sam's.

"Castiel's way of opening your eyes?" Sam finished for him.

"Actually it was his boss, Zachariah." Dean explained with a tilt of his head. Apparently there was a new player in town. Sam found himself slightly pissed off that another angel had stepped forward to fuck with his brother.

"Zachariah?"

"Apparently after the whole Uriel double agent thing he decided to use a more hands on approach."

"Huh."

"Exactly."

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, aware of Dean waiting patiently for a response. "So, the weight of the world is sitting on your shoulders. Literally." Sam knew the weight Dean had always carried had just increased ten-fold. The angels were really, really starting to piss him off.

"Sucks to be me."

"I'll say." Sam was pretty sure he was starting to hate the angels.

He looked up into Dean's expectant gaze, sincerely glad to see determination in his eyes. Dean looked away briefly, licking his lips as he obviously struggled with some inner conflict. Sam wanted to ask what he was thinking, but held his question in check, waiting for Dean to sort his thoughts. After a moment, Dean's gaze slowly returned to his brother.

"The thing is, I don't think I can do this alone. I need to know you've got my back. I need to know I can count on you, not have you sneaking off in the dead of night to play in the shadows with Ruby." He paused, taking a short breath, a small shrug lifting both shoulders. "What I'm saying is, I need my brother back, Sammy."

Sam released a breath and felt something shift home. Something he hadn't felt for a long time. "Yeah. Me, too."

Maybe the angels had the right idea after all.

**The End**

_I know it won't be quite so easy to get Sam back on target, but hey, a girl can dream._


End file.
